Distant Dreamings
by Shira Lansys
Summary: <html><head></head>Harry is sick of being the saviour of the wizarding world. In order to escape it, he retreats to Romania. Slash, CWHP. Don't like, don't read. Or, do read and send me a flame - it boosts my review count.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Pairing: HarryCharlie**

**Rating: M**

**Summary: Harry is sick of being the saviour of the wizarding world. In order to escape it, he retreats to Romania. **

xXx

"Can't we convince you to stay, Harry?" Hermione asked tearfully. Ron, who was standing beside her with his arm over her shoulder, nodded in agreement.

"Are you really sure that you want to go off to Romania, mate?" He added. "It's no easy life looking after dragons, and it's dangerous too. You could really get hurt."

Harry smiled sadly at them. They'd been over this a million times, but Harry knew Ron and Hermione were still clinging to the hope that he might change his mind.

They were to be out of luck though. Ever since the war, Harry had done exactly what was expected of him like a good little hero, and he was sick of it. He'd got together with Ginny. He'd got himself into the Auror Program (which wasn't difficult seeing as they practically _begged _him to join up: having the saviour out there catching the rest of the Dark wizards that were still on the loose sent a very good message). He'd done the interviews, the photo-shoots, the autograph signings, and the press-releases on cases he didn't have anything to do with. Merlin, he'd almost agreed to help someone write his official autobiography.

That had been the last straw. Well, that had almost been the last straw. He'd begun questioning what he was doing with his life when he realised he would be writing a book on himself (how Lockhart was _that_?). He'd decided that it wasn't going the way he wanted it to when Ginny left him.

He should have seen it coming, really. She'd been getting more and more distant from him, and, if he were brutally honest with himself, neither of them had really cared. It could have gone on like that for years if she hadn't met Derk and decided that Harry wasn't who she wanted.

It hadn't come as a shock to Harry - in fact, once he got over the initial feeling of "Oh-Merlin-my-girlfriend-and-my-wife-to-be-has-just-dumped-me-my-life-is-over-what-am-I-going-to-do", he realised how cold their relationship had grown.

Ginny had been his safe harbour. He knew that she'd always be there for him when he needed her, and that she wouldn't pester him when he didn't.

She'd been the relationship to hide behind when the publicity got messy. _"So, Mr. Potter, is it true that you had a one-night-stand with an exceptionally pretty goblin the other night while away on a case?" "I'm afraid not, Miss Turnball, I love my girlfriend far too much to do that."_

She'd been his best friend, and he'd loved her. He still did. But he'd confused that for being _in _love with her. He was only glad now that she'd found Derk; the way they'd been going, they might have been married with five kids before they realised their relationship was as sham.

She'd been _safe_, and after the war, Harry had wanted safe. He hadn't wanted to fight. He hadn't wanted to attempt things he couldn't handle. He'd wanted a drama-less, easy life.

Unfortunately, he got mixed up. He thought that doing what was expected of him was going to be easy.

It wasn't, he could say that. It was damn hard work. Difficult, and _boring_. Dull. Eventless. After searching for Horcruxes and defeating Voldemort, filing paperwork and reliving his adventures through newspaper interviews didn't quite match.

He'd wanted completely different things, and it had taken a while for him to realise what he needed to do. He wanted something normal, but different enough for him to find it exciting. He didn't want to be risking his life for the sake of the wizarding race, nor did he want to be stuck behind a desk. He wanted to do something exciting, not for the sake of other people, but for himself.

"I know I could get hurt," he told his best friends reassuringly. They were one of the few reasons why he was hesitant about moving to Romania. "But I've lived my entire life with that risk. It would be a shame to become boring now when I'm so adept at putting myself in dangerous situations."

Hermione smiled through her tears and rushed forward to fling her arms about his neck. "Oh Harry, we'll miss you. I wish we could go with you. It would have been just like old times."

"Yeah, that would have been awesome," Harry agreed. He really did share Hermione's feelings - she and Ron had always been there, from the very beginning. Even when he was fighting with one of them, he always had the other. But they couldn't come with him this time. "But we can't have you chasing dragons in your condition," he told her. Her sad smile turned into a frown.

"I've told you and Ron before, stop calling it a condition," she scolded. "I'm having a baby, not dying of cancer."

"Cancer?" Ron asked, confused. "Oh yeah, was that that muggle condition where all the organs turned themselves inside out?"

Harry gave his friend a confused look, and Hermione giggled. "Lee bought a television," she told him in way of explanation. "He's been watching science fiction."

"Right," Harry said sceptically. "Well, I'd better get going. This portkey won't wait for me."

There were regulations about travelling internationally, and both Harry and Ron had been shocked when Hermione had informed him that there were laws preventing people from apparating into different countries at random. Harry had had to seek permission from the ministry to get a portkey to Romania.

He put his hand on the tea kettle, holding in his other hand a small backpack that Hermione had spell with an undetectable extension charm - again.

"Take care, mate," Ron told him.

"And don't forget to write!" Hermione added.

"I won't," Harry promised. "You two look after yourselves, won't you?"

"Of course," Hermione said. And then she added, "Oh, and Harry, if-"

But whatever she was going to say was cut off as Harry felt the all-too-familiar sensation of his arm being wrenched from its socket as the portkey took flight.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on a grassy field and a familiar, red-headed person was grinning down at him. "Good to see ya, Harry," Charlie said, offering him his hand and pulling the dark-haired boy to his feet. "Not to rush you, but how fast do you think you can run? They're about to let the Welsh Greens into this enclosure. About…now…actually."

Harry barely had time to snatch up his bag before a roaring sound, accompanied by some very hot flames, deafened him, and he and Charlie were both running for their lives.

xXx

"So what brings you to Romania?" Charlie asked Harry over a bottle of the local beverage with a name that Harry couldn't pronounce. "Your letter was pretty brief."

"Well, you'll know by now that your sister left me," Harry said.

Charlie nodded. "Yeah, Mum fire-called me the moment it happened. I think she was more upset by it than you and Ginny were put together."

Harry thought that sounded about right. "Yeah, well…," he mused, "after that, I started wondering if my life was really going where I wanted it to go."

"And it wasn't?"

"Not at all."

"So you came here?" Charlie supplied. Harry nodded.

"I wanted to do something different, or at least something away from everything else where I could sort my head out."

"Fair enough." Charlie took a swig of his butterbeer. "I'm glad you decided to come here. We need a new beginner to shovel the dragon dung."

xXx

Charlie wasn't kidding, Harry soon found out. It seemed that you didn't get to even go near the dragons until you had been there a "decent amount of time" (which basically equated to forever). Instead, Harry got the jobs that had little danger and required little skill.

That didn't mean to say it wasn't interesting. Funnily enough, shovelling dragon dung was a very interesting task. Harry wondered whether Britain's Ministry even knew that Romania was home to a very interesting creature the others called "Frobiners". They looked as though someone had got a gnome drunk one night and the creature had been unable to tell the difference between a female gnome and a giant moth.

The result was a potato-like creature with a long body and a large head, with wings on its back that only allowed it to flutter about a foot from the ground. It would be really quite endearing if it didn't keep stealing the dung that Harry was supposed to be shovelling.

Dragon dung was worth quite a bit on the market, and it was not allowed to go to waste. The Frobiners were considered pests because, when they scooped up great big bucket-loads of the dung in their webbed hands and carted it off to their nests, they were essentially scooping up bucket-loads of galleons. Harry was supposed to hit them over their heads with his shovel, knocking them out so that he could collect the dung unhindered. However, it always seemed a bit cruel to him, and he usually ended up just shooing them away.

The man who trained Harry - "Longtooth", he was called - sort-of took Harry under his wing. Harry had thought that he would probably spend quite a bit of time with Charlie now that he was here, but he couldn't have been more mistaken. The day after Harry arrived, Charlie was sent with a small group over to the other side of the country, where they were supposed to rescue a dragon that, it had been reported, had a severe mouth infection and was starving to death because it couldn't eat properly. Instead, Harry was assigned to Longtooth, who actually reminded the dark-haired boy a bit of Mad-Eye, in his gruff, veteran manner and accumulation of scars and burns.

Harry found that the days passed quickly. Even doing the most mundane of tasks, such as grading dragon scales, felt productive. And Harry honestly enjoyed what he was doing.

There was a mess hall in which everyone ate, although not all at the same time. It reminded Harry quite a bit of Hogwarts, actually. It was there that he first met Cathy.

Catherine Williams was one of the few witches who worked at this dragon reserve. Usually the witches worked at another reserve about five hundred miles away - males and females were partially separated for no particular reason; it was just how it had always been done. But ten years ago, Cathy had rescued a baby dragon, and raised it from an infant as she brought it back to Romania over a period of three months. In that time, the dragon had done something rarely seen in the wizarding world - it had grown attached.

The dragon seemed to think that Cathy was its mother, or part of its "pack", and wouldn't let her out of its sight. As this had been the only reserve that had vacancies and was fully equipped for hand rearing a baby dragon, Cathy had come here and never left.

"You're Harry Potter, right?" Cathy asked, holding her hand out over top of the table. "I'm Cathy. Cathy Williams."

"Er… right," Harry said, shaking the calloused hand. "It's good to meet you."

She looked him up and down appraisingly. "Indeed," she said.

There was a slight awkward silence as she sat down across from him and started loading her plate with enough food to feed three people. She saw Harry watching her in amazement and grinned.

"Don't worry, I don't usually eat like a pig," she said, seeing his amazement. "But I won't be eating for another day or so."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"I have to take Edward hunting."

"Edward?" Harry asked. He had a sneaking suspicion as to who Edward was….

"My dragon," Cathy confirmed. Harry had to resist the urge to laugh. He found it hard to imagine a dragon called "Edward".

"Why can't you take food with you?" Harry asked curiously.

"Edward'll eat it."

Harry laughed. "Some hunter that makes him."

"Yeah, he's usually about as ferocious as a housecat," Cathy agreed. "That's why I take him hunting. So he can remain wild."

"Why bother?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't it just be easier to…domesticate…him?"

Cathy shook her head. "I would never do that. Dragons are wild creatures, and they need to stay that way. It would be wrong to turn him into some sort of pet. And besides," she added, as Harry opened his mouth to say something. "He'd only stay domestic as long as I was with him, and he'll far outlive me. Once I die, he'll have to go feral, and if I don't teach him how to be wild, he'll never last a second out there."

"So what, you're waiting to die so he can be wild?" Harry asked.

Cathy shrugged. "Either that, or he'll find a mate and leave me." She finished the food on her plate quickly and stood up. "Well, I have to go. See you around Harry."

No sooner had she left than Longtooth sat himself down opposite Harry. "Made a friend, have you Potter?"

That was the other thing that reminded Harry of Mad-Eye, besides the intimidating nickname and the scars. Longtooth refused to call Harry by his first name. "Either you get a nickname, or I call you Potter," he'd told the boy when he'd asked.

"Huh?" Harry said thickly. "Oh yeah. Cathy was telling me about Edward."

He saw the corner of Longtooth's mouth twitch up into a rare smile at the dragon's name, and he got the feeling that the other man shared his opinion on the ridiculousness of it.

"Yes, she's earned her nickname, she has," Longtooth said noncommittally. Harry blinked.

"Cathy had a nickname?" He asked. He'd only ever heard people call her "Cathy" or "Williams".

"Dragonheart."

"I see. Very appropriate."

"You watch yourself, Potter," Longtooth said unexpectedly. Harry looked up, surprised.

"What do you mean?"

"I see the way you're looking at her. Williams might offer to share her bed with you, but her heart is reserved for her dragons. You'll get yourself hurt if you aint careful."

"She hasn't offered me anything," Harry retorted, a little irritated. He wasn't looking at Cathy in any way, thank you very much. "And I'm here to sort my head out, not fall in love."

"All the same," Longtooth said gruffly. "Just because you aren't expecting it, doesn't mean it won't happen."

"I'll bear that in mind," Harry told him.

"Now, Potter," Longtooth said, changing the subject. "I've been told that you're already familiar with one of our dragons. Would you like to pay her a visit?"

It took Harry a moment or two to work out what the man was talking about. Then it clicked. "Oh, Norbert! I mean, Norberta," he added, remembering that Hagrid had been wrong about the supposedly-male dragon's gender.

"That's right," Longtooth said, nodding. "We can go this afternoon, if you'd like."

xXx

And so, for the fourth time in his life, Harry found himself face-to-face with a dragon. Well, not really face to face - he'd have to be about fifty feet tall for that to happen. But he got to see Norberta and her young from about a hundred feet away.

"Would you like to go closer?" Longtooth offered. Harry looked at the family of dragons warily. In truth, his previous experiences with dragons had all ended much better than he could have possibly hoped for, but he was still wary of them.

"Is it safe?" He asked. Longtooth laughed.

"Safe? Of course it's not safe. But you wouldn't have come here if you didn't want a job with a little bit of danger."

Harry had to admit, Longtooth was absolutely right. He might not mind doing the menial tasks that had been assigned to him so far, but they did lack that spark of adventure that he'd been hoping for when he took the job.

"Alright then," he grinned at the older man. "Let's go."

There was sparse vegetation dotting the ground between them and the dragons, which they used for cover as they darted from tree to tree. Longtooth was much more agile than he first appeared, and, in the days of peace following the war, Harry had become somewhat unfit, and he struggled to keep up.

"Wow," Harry breathed when the other man held out his arm to signal for them to stop.

When Harry had last seen Norbert (or Norberta, as she was later renamed), the dragon had been about the size of two St. Bernards. Now she was about the size of two mansions.

Frolicking around her large paws, occasionally shooting small jets of flame, were her young. They were all the same colour as she was.

"Hold on," said Longtooth, frowning. "How many babies can you see?"

Harry counted quickly. "Four. Why?"

"She should have five…."

"Is the other one behind her?" Harry suggested.

"Maybe…," Longtooth said thoughtfully. "Should we-"

But he stopped speaking suddenly when a deceivingly cute "chirrup" noise came from behind them.

It was like in the muggle movies. Longtooth slowly turned around to see a small baby Norwegian Ridgeback (that looked uncannily like Norberta had at that age). The look of horror on his face told Harry that this was _not _good.

"Potter," Longtooth whispered. "Start moving very slowly back the way we came."

Longtooth took a gentle step sideways, but as soon as he began moving, the baby dragon let out another chirrup. He froze.

Harry suddenly became aware that the sounds that had been coming from the rest of the dragons had stopped. He didn't need to turn around to know what that meant.

It seemed Longtooth did though, and, after a quick glance over his shoulder, he started sneaking his way around the baby dragon.

"Potter," he said, out of the corner of his mouth. "When I say 'now', run. As fast as you can."

Harry nodded, and barely took a small step forwards, when the 'whooshing' sound, signalling the displacement of a large amount air, came from behind them. Longtooth shouted something that Harry didn't quite comprehend due to the blood pounding in his ears, but he assumed it was the signal and began sprinting.

He hadn't got very far when his instincts told him to dodge, and he threw himself sideways just in time as a large jet of flame incinerated the ground where he had been a moment earlier.

And then two large, scaled paws landed on either side of him.

Norberta was upon him.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was a bit of a blur. All Harry knew was that he was running, and the dragon was right behind him. He was running faster and faster and faster, up until the point where he practically flew into a hard body and was lying on his back as two paws about the size of him himself landed on either side of him.

A deep voice above him shouted "_Confundus"_, and Harry squinted up at the flaming red hair above him.

"Charlie?" he asked. A rough hand pulled him to his feet, and propelled him forwards. He stumbled before he got the idea that he was supposed to run, and began sprinting again.

He heard the roar of flames, and as he turned around to look, he tripped on a slight rise in the ground and fell heavily.

That fall; it seemed to take forever. It was as though it happened in slow motion - his brain was working, and he knew what was happening, but he couldn't seem to do anything about it. _'I'm dead,'_ he thought. He'd never make it to his feet in time. Norberta would roast him alive.

His body hit the ground with a thump. He went to scramble to get up, but it had caused all the wind to be knocked from his body. He couldn't move; after realising the futileness of it, he just shut his eyes.

The roar of dragon flames could be heard from above him, and the temperature suddenly went up about fifty degrees. Harry managed to lift his arms to shield his face - although what good he thought it would do, he'd never understand. He guessed it was just instinct.

"_Protego_!"

The heat was scorching, all around him, it was though the air had caught fire. He couldn't breathe properly, and this time it wasn't because he was winded. The air was too hot.

But he wasn't burning. Harry himself, although uncomfortably hot, was unharmed. Surprised at this unexpected turn of events, he looked up.

He caught a small glimpse of Charlie before a strong hand clamped tightly around his wrist and he felt, for the third time that night, the sensation of not being able to breathe as he was pulled into side-along apparation.

And then he was lying on a comfortable floor, looking up into Charlie's frowning face. The only thought that ran through his shocked mind was '_Oh dear, I think I'm in trouble'_.

"What did you think you were _doing?" _Charlie hissed angrily at Harry. But despite his tone, and the glare he was giving Harry, his hands were surprisingly gentle as they helped Harry up into a sitting position. "You could have been killed!"

Harry hung his head, feeling suddenly ashamed. "Sorry," he mumbled.

The excitement had left him tired and drained, and suddenly he felt miserable. He hadn't wanted this, when he'd decided to come here. He had wanted to do something exciting, and thought that being around dragons was bound to be that, but he hadn't wanted it to be just like fighting Voldemort - extremely dangerous and terrifying, and something he shouldn't really be able do and still be alive afterwards.

As if sensing Harry's change of mood, Charlie's face softened, and the supporting hand became a comforting one as it began to rub circles on Harry's back.

"It's alright," he murmured gently. "I was just scared that you'd get hurt."

Charlie's body was so close to him, and Harry wanted nothing more to lean into it and his head on that strong shoulder while Charlie told him that everything was okay. Then, realising what he was thinking, he sat up straighter so that he wasn't relying on Charlie to support him.

'_What is with me at the moment?' _he thought, annoyed at his weakness. _'I've handled way worse than this during the war, and I never wanted to give up and be _coddled_ then."_

Charlie, once again seeming to sense Harry's change of mood, took his hand away. His face darkened once more. "Longtooth took you?" He asked.

Harry nodded.

"I'll be having a word with him," Charlie said. Then he smiled at Harry. "I'm glad you're okay," he said, more softly.

Harry tried to ignore the way his stomach was doing flips. "I wouldn't be okay if it weren't for you," he said, struggling to his feet. "Thank you."

He realised he was in Charlie's cabin - well, they called them cabins. They were actually two rooms - a bathroom, and a multi-purpose room which had a table, a desk and a bed. Exactly like his own, Harry realised. Except a little bit neater.

"Don't mention it." Charlie crossed over to the table and gestured for Harry to take the other seat. Harry did so, wary of his newly-bruised body. He reckoned it would probably hurt in the morning.

"I didn't even know you were back yet," Harry commented, still a little shaken, although why he was acting like such a wimp now, he didn't know.

"That's because we only just finished giving our report," Charlie said. Harry knew that for tasks that required the dragon keepers to leave the reserve, the entire group had to report back to Dumitru Grey, the person who ran the reserve. Although technically it was a project of the Romanian Ministry, it still needed someone to oversee the day-to-day running of it, and Dumitru was the man for the job.

Harry had met him when he first was employed here. Harry's first thought was spent wondering what a man like this was doing running a dragon reserve, when clearly he looked like he would be better suited sitting in some stuffy ministry office, dealing with paperwork. He had reminded Harry a little of crouch, actually.

That was until Dumitru got onto the topic of the reserve, and then onto talking about dragons. Harry had sat there for almost an hour doing nothing but nodding as the man talked and talked and talked about how things worked, what it was like at the reserve and, of course, about the dragons residing here.

From that moment on, it became obvious that, although Dumitru looked like nothing more than a ministry lackey, he was actually a _very _passionate dragon lover.

And Harry supposed that's what made him the ideal person to run the place. He loved the reserve, and always had it's best interests at heart, but, unlike most of the other people working here, he didn't look like he came straight from the field. He was someone the Ministry would respect enough to let him run things as he pleased.

"I'd only just got out when I ran into Grigore." Charlie continued, oblivious to the fact that Harry had zoned out for a moment. "I asked about you and he told me that you were probably with Longtooth, and that Longtooth had said something about visiting Norberta. I had meant to greet you and maybe catch a bite to eat together in the mess hall, not get in a tussle with a viciously-maternal dragon."

Charlie grinned, showing that his jest meant no harm. Harry smiled weakly back.

"Do you want to grab that bite now?" Harry asked, although he didn't feel particularly hungry. His stomach was still recovering from that somersault it had done when Charlie had smiled at him.

Charlie grinned. "You don't have to ask me twice," he said.

xXx

"So did you keep yourself busy while I was gone?" Charlie asked, as he shovelled yet another huge spoonful of stew into his mouth. Harry eyed the man suspiciously; where did he put it all? Charlie wasn't very tall (although still taller than Harry), and although he could be described as stocky, it was definitely mostly muscle. Yet here he was, gulping down enough to feed a small dragon.

'_Mind you,' _Harry thought, _'we're lucky _we _didn't feed a small dragon today. Or a not-so-small one." _

"Sort of. I got a lot of the easy jobs to do, because I'm a beginner," Harry said, picking at the unappetizing lumps of meat in his bowl. There was nothing wrong with them, really; he just didn't feel hungry.

"Yeah, I remember those tasks," Charlie said, gazing off into the distance as though lost in a memory. Then he shivered dramatically. "Wouldn't go back there for all the galleons in England, neither," he added with a grin.

Harry was about to say something witty in response (although he wasn't sure what it was yet), when a familiar figure sat himself down next to Harry.

"Evenin', Potter," Longtooth said. Harry noticed a new bandage on his arm that hadn't been there an hour ago, and looked down guiltily. He'd got away completely unscathed, thanks to Charlie.

"Evening Longtooth," Charlie said, before Harry could answer, and his voice was surprisingly cold.

Longtooth looked up. "What's with you, Weasley?" he growled.

Charlie took a deep breath, as though he was attempting not to shout. "You could have got Harry killed, tonight," he said evenly.

Longtooth shrugged. "I gave the kid a choice, didn't I? Being anywhere near here could get him killed. He signed up for this job; if he had a problem with danger, he would have stayed well away."

"There's a difference," Charlie ground out, "between signing up for a dangerous job, which, may I remind you, has protocols and safety steps to ensure that accidents don't happen, and taking a boy, whose still dusting soot off his robes from flooing here, out to go face to face with one of the most vicious mother dragons we keep here." The sentence was said in one breath, and Harry got the idea that Charlie had been mulling over that one for a while.

Harry wondered whether he should point out that he travelled here by portkey rather then the floo network. He took one look at the serious expression on both men's faces and decided against it.

"He can handle himself," Longtooth retorted. "He don' need you to be mothering him."

"He's done more than enough 'handling himself' than anyone should have to do," Charlie responded angrily. "You keep him out of dangerous situations that you have no right to put him in."

"Well, if he's done so much of it, he must be an expert. And it was _his _choice," Longtooth replied.

"Charlie," Harry tried to interrupt. "It really was my choi-"

"You shouldn't have made the offer!" Charlie exclaimed. Both of their voices were getting louder and louder, and more than a few people were looking at them. Harry would have liked to sink back into his seat, but he decided that attempting to stop the argument would probably would be a better thing to do.

"Charlie, it re-"

This time it was Longtooth who interrupted Harry.

"Have you asked Potter what he wanted?" Longtooth asked Charlie venomously.

Both of them turned expectantly to Harry, their expressions still angry from their fighting. He began to wish that he hadn't attracted their attention.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself, aware that he was now talking to the entire mess hall, who were watching the three of them unashamedly. All he wanted was to be a quiet trainee and not get noticed. Was that too much to ask?

"I am glad Longtooth offered," Harry said evenly. "Although I think I shouldn't have accepted it. But all the same," Harry continued, as Charlie opened his mouth to say something sharp to Longtooth. "It was still me who said I'd go with him. It was my choice, and it's my fault. Not Longtooth's."

Charlie opened his mouth to say something, and then seemed to change his mind as he closed it again. He gave Longtooth a hard look, and then turned to Harry.

"Fine then," he said, and Harry couldn't tell whether his expression was hurt or angry, or some other emotion that he couldn't place. "I can see I'm not needed. I'll be off. Goodnight Harry."

He pushed himself up from the table and headed towards the door.

"Charlie, wait!" Harry called, but it was too late. He'd already left.

Pushing away his mostly-uneaten stew, Harry followed.

xXx

It wasn't until Harry reached Charlie's cabin that he caught up with the red-head. The other man was fumbling with his keys in a rush, as though he had anticipated Harry coming, and had hoped that if he got into his apartment fast enough he could avoid him. He swore as he dropped the keys, and bent down to pick them up.

"Charlie," Harry said, as he approached the other man. Charlie didn't even glance at him as he tried the lock again, more slowly this time.

"Charlie, don't be mad," Harry pleaded. "I'm sorry I said all that. But I didn't know that you were going to have a go at Longtooth like you did."

"It's his fault," Charlie said stubbornly, but he didn't sound angry any more. Harry was relieved.

"Maybe a little," Harry admitted. "But I agreed to go with him. I'm not a kid any more - I can't keep blaming others for what I've done wrong. It was my fault more than it was his. And it would have been churlish to say it was his fault. "

Charlie seemed to give up with the lock, and he let his hands drop back down to his sides as he looked at Harry fondly. "You're determined to always blame yourself, aren't you?" he asked.

"I've done worse things that I've had to take responsibility for," Harry said quietly, as images of Sirius falling back through the veil invaded his mind. "Things I can't pin on someone else."

He looked down, unable to meet Charlie's eyes. To his surprise, a warm, calloused hand rested itself on his arm. When he still didn't look up, Charlie brought his hand to underneath Harry's chin and tilted his face up so that they were looking at each other.

"The fact that you accept the blame is just yet another reason why you should forgive yourself," Charlie said softly, and Harry knew that neither of them were talking about the dragon encounter any more. "But don't take all the blame. There are some parts of it that aren't - and never will be - your fault."

Harry gazed up into that freckled face, and all thoughts of blame left him. How could he blame anyone for anything when Charlie was looking at him so tenderly, and when that rough, but warm and gentle, hand was touching him like it was? It was like a soppy part in a romance novel.

And then, just like all the best romance stories, something had to spoil the moment. Charlie dropped his hand and let out a small laugh.

"Do you know what I've just remembered?" he asked, his voice amused. He didn't wait for Harry's answer.

"I left the door unlocked." And with that, he turned the handle and walked in, leaving it open for Harry to follow.

It's a good thing Charlie didn't wait for him though. Harry was too breathless to move for a while.

xXx

He was tired. He really was. The day's encounter with Nortberta had exhausted him utterly.

Then why couldn't he get to sleep?

He lay awake in his bed, his mind going over and over what had happened today. Or more the point, what had happened with Charlie today.

Why did he feel funny every time Charlie looked at him a certain way? Why couldn't he get the read head's smile out of his mind?

And why did he want to share more of those tender moments with him, like the one outside Charlie's cabin?

Harry had never considered the idea that he might have feelings towards guys. After all, his plan had been very simple: marry Ginny, get a good job, have kids. Lead a normal life. There had never been any room in there for questioning his sexuality.

But now, he really did have to wonder. Because this sure felt like a crush, and if it wasn't, what were all these tumultuous feelings that he couldn't get rid of?

When he finally dropped off, it was to memories of Charlie. Charlie smiling, Charlie laughing, and Charlie… tilting Harry's chin up so that they were looking into Harry's eyes.

Although, as he fell off to sleep, Harry slipped into a dream where that action ended the way it usually does in romance novels.


	3. Chapter 3

"Which way did he go?" Harry asked breathlessly, his wand out and ready.

"I don't know," a scowling man replied, his voice full of scorn. "But it shouldn't be hard to find him - follow the trail of fire and destruction."

"Right, yeah," Harry said, nodding. He kicked himself for wasting time asking stupid questions when there was a young, dangerous dragon on the loose. He needed to hurry!

A yell to his right drew his attention, and he recognised it as Longtooth's voice. He sprinted off in that direction, leaving the derisive man to shake his head at the stupidity of young people, all the while attempting to put out his collection of potted plants that the dragon had set on fire.

Harry almost collided with Charlie - again - as he shot round a corner. The Weasley, who had come from the other direction, continued running, and Harry fell into step beside him.

"All righ', Harry?" he asked. Harry grunted in affirmation, not wanting to spare energy on making conversation.

"Longtooth's shout came from near the mess hall, I think," Charlie said speculatively. Harry nodded, although the gesture was lost in the momentum of his sprint. He'd thought it had come from that area too.

They were both right. Harry came to a halt, panting, on the patch of grass outside the kitchen at the sight of sparks and flames alike flying through the air - and it wasn't to the fault of the cooks. A small green dragon that Harry would guess was a baby Welsh Green (although he was going off the colour alone) was spitting small jets of flame at Longtooth. The sparks were caused by the flame rebounding off the shield charm the man had cast. He was lucky the dragon was so young; against a more mature dragon, the man would have been incinerated, ridiculously strong spell work or not.

"I've got an idea!" Harry called to Charlie, who was in the middle of shooting a spell off at the dragon.

"What is it?" Charlie called, ducking behind the corner of a building as a dragon tail whipped at where he had been standing a moment earlier. Harry winced, not wanting to imagine what would have happened if Charlie hadn't moved.

"I'll lead it to a more deserted area where it can't hurt anyone, and you and Longtooth come behind it and help me out when I get there!"

"What sort of a plan is that?" Charlie protested, but it was too late. Harry was already casting spells at the dragon and sprinting out into the open where he was a clear target. They weren't particularly powerful, and bounced harmlessly off the creature's thick hide, but it had the desired effect. Irritated, the dragon looked up from where he had Longtooth cornered and set his sights on Harry.

Really, it wasn't much of a plan at all. Unfortunately for Harry, he didn't actually realise this until he was sprinting for his life once more with a raging (if small) dragon on his heels. Every now and again he would shoot a hex over his shoulder, and his blood pounded in his ears as adrenaline fuelled his mad dash for life.

But, even though he could end up dead at any moment, he'd never felt more alive. _This _was what he had wanted when he'd left Britain: dangerous, mad adventures fighting something that would kill him as soon as look at him.

And sure, he could have had this as an Auror. He could have asked to be assigned to all the dangerous cases and do nothing but fieldwork. He doubted the ministry would have begrudged him; after all, it did look good for them when the headlines read _'Auror Potter captures another rising Dark Lord'_.

But that wasn't what he'd wanted. He didn't want to be protecting everyone else from dangers they could only dream of; he wanted to be fighting for his _own _life, knowing that as long as he fought his best, it didn't matter what happened. If he died, it was on his own head - and his failure wouldn't mean the deaths of a hundred other people.

_This _was _freedom_.

"Potter!" Longtooth called. Harry looked over to the voice, before realising that the man hadn't mean for him to do that. He looked up just in time to see a large green tail whooshing at him with all the speed of a muggle race-car.

Then he felt the unpleasant sensation of being thrown backwards into something hard before it all went black.

* * *

><p>"He's an idiot!"<p>

"Charlie-" that was Longtooth's voice, but he was quickly cut off.

"He's a complete fruit cake!"

"Fruit cake?" that was Cathy, her voice amused and relaxed.

"Yes, a fruitcake. And a moron!"

"Maybe so," that was Longtooth again, "but yelling at his unconscious body won't help."

Harry tried to clear his throat, to let them know he was awake. His cough came out as more of a squeak. "Not…" He began, but it came out as a croak. "Not unconscious."

They turned to him - Cathy looking relieved, Charlie looking both relieved and angry, and Longtooth not looking very different from how he usually did, although he did seem strangely pale. Harry wondered if it was just the poor lighting.

"You idiot!" Charlie said, collapsing into a chair by Harry's bed. "You could have been hurt!"

"I was," Harry managed to croak out.

"Not badly, though. It could have been a lot worse," Cathy told him. "Anyway, I have to go and see to Edward. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

He would have nodded, but his head hurt when he so much as turned it. Instead he just watched her leave.

"How are you feeling?" Longtooth asked.

Harry blinked, surprised at the concerned question. "'M fine," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

"Harry," Charlie said, and his voice was gentler than it had been. "We're a team. We work together - you can't just go running off on your own. That's when things like _this _happen."

"Sorry…."

Longtooth interrupted. "I have to go now. I'll see you boys later." And then he left, without even giving either of them a chance to say goodbye.

"What's with him?" Harry asked, frowning as he tentatively tried to push himself up into some sort of sitting position. Surely it wasn't just in his imagination that Longtooth was acting a little strange.

"You worried him," Charlie said softly. "It brought back some memories."

"Memories?" Harry asked.

"Longtooth used to have a wife and a son. Now he has neither."

There was a shocked silence for a moment. "How?" Harry croaked.

"He used to be in Dumitru's position. He had a wife and child, so the office position was more suitable than one that required fieldwork, where he'd have to live on the reserve, away from his family.

"It was about three years ago. He'd come here, to the reserve, for a couple of nights - like he did every month to check that things were running smoothly. It was routine; just like every other time.

"But his son wanted to come with him. He loved Longtooth - looked up to him, and thought it was amazing that his dad got to work with dragons. Longtooth said no, not while he had to work, but maybe he'd consider bringing him here once school was out, as a sort of field trip. Longtooth had though that was the end of it."

Harry felt sick. He could see where this was going, and he didn't want to hear it, but Charlie continued. "He sneaked out at night, and he floo'd here, like he'd watched his dad do all them times. No one noticed him arrive. He went to search for his father, but he went the wrong way - right into the dragon enclosure."

Harry closed his eyes in horror. "His mother noticed he was missing later that night, but it was already too late. The body was found just before dawn.

"Longtooth and his wife were both devastated, and six month's later, she left him."

"How long ago was this?" Harry asked.

Charlie shrugged. "About five years. Ever since then, Longtooth's thrown himself into the reserve. He gave up his position so he could return to fieldwork, and hasn't spoken of the matter since."

Harry stared at the doorway that Longtooth had just left through, his face unreadable. He'd lost a lot in his time, a lot more than what most people had to bear, but he couldn't understand the pain of losing a child, especially in such a manner. And even when Ginny had left him, neither of them had resented it - it had been an opportunity to make each of them happier. His heart went out to Longtooth, who'd lost his wife to the bitterness that the loss had left behind.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I didn't know."

But his words were meaningless.

* * *

><p>They'd been put on a four man roster together, sort of like a team. Usually the squads only had three people, but Cathy didn't count as a team member (apparently) - because of her "unreliability" due to Edward.<p>

Harry reckoned that Charlie had pulled some strings - there was no way that he had ended up in a group with the only three people he'd had any sort of extended conversation with.

He did wonder, though, why Charlie and Cathy didn't seem to get along. Well, that statement wasn't entirely true - Cathy seemed to not only like Charlie, but she appeared to be absolutely oblivious to the coldness that sometimes seeped into Charlie's voice when he spoke to her.

The other thing that worried him was that he occasionally got the idea that Cathy was _flirting _with him. At first he'd dismissed it as an overactive imagination, and possibly the cause of too much time without a girlfriend, but now….

He couldn't be sure, but every now and then she'd say something unexpected, or look at him in a certain way, and he'd start to wonder. But before he could think about it any further she'd be back to her normal self and Harry would be left ponder whether he was imagining things or not.

He put it out of his mind; throwing himself into his work as soon as he was deemed fit enough to get out of bed. When he wasn't working on assigned tasks, he spent his time with either Charlie or Longtooth, or he helped Cathy with Edward.

He learnt more about dragons from Cathy than he would have if he'd spent the next twenty years working normally at the reserve. She was like some sort of dragon psychologist - if Edward so much as twitched his left nostril, she could tell Harry exactly how he was feeling, what he wanted, and whether or not Harry should be running for his life. The latter piece of information proved to be very valuable in the months he spent helping her.

Not only was she a never-ending source of dragon knowledge, but she was also funny and entertaining, and generally a great person to be around. Whenever she went away to go hunting with Edward, he found himself counting down the days before her return.

And as for Charlie… well, Cathy's unconfirmed flirtations weren't the only reason why Harry threw himself into work. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop his heart beating that much faster when Charlie smiled at him.

Things came to a head one night after Cathy and Edward had got back from a hunt. Harry had arranged to meet Charlie in a bar near by, but had lost track of time and showed up a little (or a lot) late.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said apologetically as he noisily pulled out the bar stool next to the Weasley.

Charlie, who'd been looking a little dejected at being apparently stood up, smiled as Harry sat down. "What took you so long?" he asked.

"Cathy just got back. I didn't realise how late it was."

A frown crossed Charlie's face at the mention of Cathy, and Harry noticed the change in his demeanour immediately. "What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Charlie muttered.

Harry frowned. Clearly it _wasn't _nothing. "Do you not like Cathy or something?" he asked. "Because you don't seem to like me mentioning her."

"Or something," Charlie said, and turned away from Harry to order them both a drink.

Harry waited until the barkeeper had left before confronting Charlie again. "What's your problem with her?"

Charlie shrugged, and was quiet for a moment. Then he said in a rush, "She's going to hurt you."

"Hurt me?" Harry asked, baffled.

"Yeah. She's flirting with you now, and then you'll start sleeping together and eventually you'll end up in love with her, and she'll tell you that it's going too fast and she thinks you both should take a break from one another. A break that doesn't end. She's done it before."

He said it fast, and not in a very articulate manner. Harry got the idea that Charlie had been mulling over those words for a while.

"She's done it to you?" Harry asked. That would explain why Charlie seemed to dislike her.

"No," Charlie said. "To others - some friends of mine. You're like a little brother to me, Harry. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Harry would wonder later why those words felt like a slap in the face. But for now, he was more concerned with not making it seem as though he felt like Charlie had just stabbed him in the chest. He turned robotically and buried himself in his drink to spare himself from answering.

The night held no more interest for Harry, but he muddled his way through by pretending nothing was wrong. After about half an hour of awkward silence, in which Harry couldn't bring himself to do anything but pretend he was okay, they ran - almost literally - into some friends of Charlie's, who challenged them to a game of darts. One match turned into twenty, and in the end it went on so late that Harry could plead tiredness and not seem unreasonable.

He apparated straight home, and probably would have collapsed right there on the floor if his bed hadn't been a convenient half a step away. Instead he fell into that, too numb to care that he was still fully clothed.

_A little brother. _He should have known. After all, he was younger than most of Charlie's brothers, and best friends with Ron. If he'd married Ginny like everyone thought he would, then he would have been Charlie's brother-in-law. Of course, it was a no-brainer that the other man would still see him as family rather than….

Rather than what? Honestly, what did Harry really want Charlie to see him as? They were friends - even if he thought that Harry was just like his kid brother, they were still mates. So did that mean Harry wanted to be _more _than friends?

He really didn't know anymore.

* * *

><p>Charlie watched Harry leave, a bitter look on his face. Harry hadn't really been with it all night, and it was easy to see that his mind was on something else. Charlie didn't have to be a mind reader to know what that something was.<p>

He hadn't had a problem with Cathy before now, before Harry came to the reserve. He'd even go so far as to say that he liked her - she had a more fixed view on reality than most people, and her dragons came first; Charlie could relate to that. But now… now, he couldn't stand the sight of her.

He _knew _there was something going on between the two of them, and he _knew _that it was the reason he disliked her. He also knew, although he was less happy to admit it, that it _wasn't_ because he loved Harry like a little brother. And most of all, it wasn't caring or protectiveness for Harry that was the root of his dislike for Cathy - it was his jealousy of her.

He didn't want to think on it anymore. Harry was his brother's best friend and his little sister's ex, not to mention the saviour of the wizarding world. He should never be entertaining such notions about Harry.

But he couldn't help but entertain the notions. He'd tried not to, he really had. However, it was hopeless. And now all that was left to do was ignore the strange attraction he felt towards the younger man, and pretend that he though of Harry as family, and nothing more.

What could possibly go wrong?


	4. Chapter 4

Harry got up the next morning with a raging headache, blocked sinuses, and what felt like one-hundred pounds of lead in his stomach, which was surprising as he hadn't had all that much alcohol the night before. He did, at first, attempt to stumble out of bed and prepare for work before he gave up and threw a handful of floo-powder on the fireplace.

The sensation of flames flickering around him did nothing to help his head. "Cathy," he croaked, glad that the fireplaces on the reserve were wired so that they only had to say each others names. He really didn't feel like saying anything more.

Cathy must have heard her fireplace burst into life because, before Harry even had to open his mouth to call her, she was crouching down in front of him. Taking one look at him (he had yet to look in a mirror, but if he looked half as bad as he felt, then her reaction was justified) she asked, "How much did you _drink _last night?"

"Not much," Harry mumbled, and she raised her eyebrow in disbelief.

"Never mind," she said. "I'll floo Dumitru and make your excuses. You get back to bed - I'll be around in a bit."

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully, and promptly coughed violently, causing ash to fly up into his mouth. He had to pull his head out of the fireplace before he swallowed some.

After that, there was nothing left to do but get a drink, and then he followed Cathy's orders and crawled back into bed. But instead of sleeping, he tossed and turned. It was really warm - he wondered if he was getting a fever.

It was ten minutes before a knock at the door sounded and Harry, assuming that it was Cathy, called out for her to come it. He flinched; raising his voice was not a good idea.

"Young idiot," was the first thing she said as she bounced through the door. "You stay right there. I'll make some tea, and I've a potion that'll make you as good as new."

"It's not a hangover," Harry informed her.

"I know," she said. "I spoke to Charlie - he'll be over later by the way." Harry resisted the urge to groan. Charlie was not the person he wanted to see right now. "He said you hardly drank anything."

"It's probably some version of the wizarding flu," Harry said. Cathy shook her head.

"I doubt it. It's not the right time of year, and Romania never gets it as bad as Britain. I reckon you have scale pox."

"Scale pox?" Harry asked. He'd heard of dragon pox, and he wondered if that's what Cathy was talking about.

"Yeah, you get it if you suddenly start spending a prolonged amount of time around scaled creatures," Cathy said. "You can blame Edward."

"Great," Harry muttered, and Cathy laughed. He shut his eyes, finding that the sounds of her pottering around with the kettle over his fire very relaxing. He drifted into a half doze.

Before he could properly fall asleep, Cathy was shaking him awake, and helping him sit upright. She handed him a mug of something steaming that gave off a strong smell of peppermint. "Here you go," she said. "Drink this and you'll be as right as rain within the hour."

Harry doubted the likeliness of this, but took a tentative sip. To his surprise, it was sweet and tasted like honey, with not even a dash of peppermint to the flavour. Soon he'd finished the lot and within minutes he was already he feeling his blocked nose beginning to clear.

Cathy grinned at him again - was she ever _not _cheerful? - and got up to empty the kettle. Harry, who now had enough energy to care that it was rude to stay in bed while he had a guest, crawled out of bed and collapsed into the nearest chair.

"So," Cathy said, and Harry thought that it sounded like she was building up to something. "I was speaking to Charlie last night, when he came back from that bar off his head."

That would explain why Cathy had first assumed Harry had a hangover.

"It was a very interesting conversation," she continued idly. "He's under the impression we're sleeping together."

It took a moment to register. "What?" Harry said thickly.

"Do I really need to explain to you what that means?" Cathy asked. "I don't even _want _to know where he got that idea from. Anyway, he seemed very… distressed about it. Any idea as to why that is?"

"He thinks of me as a brother," Harry said, in monotone, as though using no expression would stop his heart from clenching painfully.

Cathy laughed. "Yeah, that's a good one, tell me another," she joked. When Harry's deadpan expression remained the same, she frowned. "Don't tell me you seriously believe that."

"It's what he said last night," Harry told her.

"Yeah, and I'm the Minister of Magic. Look, the way Charlie was talking, Harry, he was very, very jealous of one of us, which most definitely means that he's attracted to one of us. And I have it on a very good account that Charlie is gay, so I'm going to assume that that someone is you."

"Charlie's gay?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure whether it was the potion or the new piece of information, but suddenly the weight in his stomach lifted considerably. Then his eyes narrowed. "Wait, whose account?"

Cathy laughed. "Doesn't matter. The point is that you and Charlie need sort things out. I won't have half of the team sulking in their cabins because they're too thick to see that they like each other."

She was interrupted by a knock on the door, and she grinned widely. Cheerfully, she skipped over to the door. "Which is why I took the liberty of inviting him over under the pretence of an emergency."

Harry went beet-red, aware that he was in his pyjama's and probably looked very ruffled from sleep. He ducked his head as Cathy opened the door.

"'M here. What's the 'mergency?" Charlie asked. His voice was slurred, and, at first, Harry thought he was still drunk. But then the other man groaned and reached up to hold his head and he realised that Charlie was just very hung over.

"It's all sorted," Cathy said cheerfully. "Harry had scale pox, but he's better now."

Charlie stumbled through the door and collapsed at the table opposite Harry. "Great. So you mean you woke me up early and incited this horrible hang over for nothing?"

Harry didn't even think Charlie had noticed he was there. Cathy frowned. "Well, I woke you up for nothing, but you did the hang over to yourself. Now, I'm going to leave you two alone, and you can sort things out. I don't want to see either of you out of this room until you've kissed and made up. Or made out; take your pick." She walked over and placed a small bottle on the table. "A hangover remedy," she explained. "You can thank me later."

And with that she practically skipped out the door.

"Urgh," Charlie said. "Being cheerful so early in the morning should be illegal." He leant forward and rested his head on the table.

Harry, who felt a little sympathetic for him as he was only just recovering from a similar feeling of sickness himself, grabbed the vial. "How are you supposed to drink this?" he asked.

"With water," Charlie said. Harry grabbed him a glass.

He downed the small potion and the water in less than five seconds. "Feels better already," he said.

There was silence for a few minutes. Harry really wanted to mention what Cathy had said to him, but he didn't know how to start the conversation. Also, he was a little afraid that Charlie would shoot it down as soon as he mentioned it. His headache had almost completely gone, but it was replaced with butterflies as he contemplated what he could say next.

It was Charlie who broke the silence. "Cathy was here early," he said. Harry shrugged.

"I floo'd her as soon as I got up," Harry said. "I thought she should know that I wouldn't be working today."

"So she didn't spend the night?" Charlie asked.

"No," Harry said, and then he added, "We aren't sleeping together."

"Oh."

"Cathy said something interesting before you arrived…," Harry began, not quite brave enough to say it outright.

Charlie, who now had more colour in his face, looked up. "What sort of interesting?" he asked.

"She said that you're gay." It sounded really harsh when he said it like that.

Charlie looked down again. "Yeah," he said. "I am."

There was silence for a bit.

"She said something else too. She said that the way you were acting last night, about us being together… that it meant that you were jealous of one of us."

Charlie tensed, but still didn't look up.

"She says… she says you like me." The word 'like' sounded wrong, like he was a schoolboy talking about a childish crush, but Harry didn't know what else to say. He waited for Charlie to answer.

"I shouldn't," Charlie said finally. "You're my little brother's best friend. You're my sister's _ex_." He sighed. "I shouldn't, but I do."

There was silence for a moment, and Harry wasn't sure what to say. Finally Charlie stood up. "I'm sorry," he said, not looking at Harry. "You didn't need to know that. I'll just go…."

"No," Harry said, toppling his chair as he stood up in such a rush, clattering to floor and reminding him that his head was still complaining. "Don't go… I…."

He'd subconsciously stepped in front of Charlie, between him and the door, and he only just realised how close they were. Taking a deep breath, Harry prepared to do something that was probably immensely stupid, and he hoped like hell that it didn't go horribly wrong.

He took a step closer to Charlie, so that they were almost touching. "I like you too," he whispered.

Damn, why was Charlie so much taller than him? He felt really short, and it wasn't going to be easy to reach up and kiss him in an attempt to show him exactly how much he liked him.

Harry needn't have worried. For a second Harry thought that Charlie wasn't going to react, but then his face broke out into a wide grin and he leaned down. Harry's heart started racing as he realised what was going to happen next.

Charlie's mouth was warm against his and his stubble scratched against Harry's cheek. He moved forwards to fast and they bumped a little harder than they should have.

It was the best kiss of Harry's life.

Just then, the door flew open, and a familiar giggle rang in Harry's ears. He pulled away from Charlie, blushing.

"See Longtooth, I told you," Cathy said. Harry turned to see the two of them standing in the doorway.

"Well I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with me own eyes," Longtooth said, scratching his chin. "Meddling woman. Ah well, I guess I owe you three galleons then?"

"Do you mind?" Charlie asked.

"Sorry," Cathy said.

"Mornin', Weasley, Potter," Longtooth said. "We'll be on our way."

"Good to see you've recovered," Cathy said cheekily, as Longtooth shut the door, and Harry wasn't sure whether she was talking to him or Charlie.

When they turned back to each other, they were both blushing. "They _bet _on us?" Charlie asked disbelievingly.

Harry laughed. "Be glad they did, or Cathy might not have seen any reason to even tell me you were gay."

"Fair enough," Charlie said. "I don't really mind, as long as I get to do more of this." And he leaned down again and captured Harry's mouth in a kiss.

This time was less chaste, and Harry opened his mouth eagerly to accept Charlie's tongue. The red-head's arms wrapped around his waist and Harry found himself being pulled against him.

He became aware that he was reacting rather… appropriately to the kiss, and as he pressed forward into Charlie he could tell that he was hard too. He pulled away and grinned.

"You haven't even taken me out on a date," he joked.

Charlie grinned. "Fair enough. How about tonight?"

"Sure. About seven?"

"Okay. I'll pick you up from here?"

"Yeah."

"Now can we get back to kissing?"

Harry laughed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but I promise I'll make it up to you in the next one. It'll be a lemon, I ****swear! It will also probably be the last chapter.**

**I would have updated sooner, but the document manager ceased to work for me...**


	5. Chapter 5

**-xXx LEMON ALERT xXx-**

The dinner went smoothly - Harry had expected no less. But now the date was over, and they were left sitting awkwardly at the table, drinks in hand. Harry had invited Charlie in, but he didn't know what do now. Well, he knew _what _to do, but he didn't know how to initiate it.

Charlie downed the rest of his drink and awkwardly began to stand. "I should probably go…," he said. Harry stood quickly.

"No," he said, "don't go." He moved closer to the red-head, reaching up to wrap his arms around the other's neck.

"Okay," Charlie breathed.

And then they were kissing, their bodies flush against each other. Harry felt himself pressing closer and closer to the larger man, rubbing the growing bulge in his pants against Charlie, who gasped as their groins came into contact.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that their future activities were best performed in a bed, and Charlie must have been thinking that too because, step by step, they awkwardly began stumbling backwards. As they did so, Charlie managed to slip his hand underneath Harry's shirt, his rough hands caressing his bare abdomen.

Finally, they made it to a bed and fell gratefully onto it. Harry rolled over so that he was straddling Charlie, and then stopped, a wave of self-consciousness washing over him. Charlie noticed almost immediately, and propped himself up. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm… I'm not sure what to do," Harry admitted. He'd done this with Ginny, but she was a _girl_. This was totally different.

Charlie laughed, sounding relieved. "For a second there I thought you were having second thoughts," he explained. "Don't you worry about what to do; I'll take care of you." And with that, he arched up into Harry.

The black-haired boy moaned as their groins came in contact again, and he leaned down to attach his mouth to Charlie's once more. As the other man mapped out his mouth, he continued moving his hips so they were rubbing against each other.

Charlie flipped them over so that their positions were reversed, and looked fondly down upon Harry who was still arching into him in an attempt to get some friction. He lowered his mouth to the other man's neck.

Harry moaned as he felt the warm tongue lapping at all sorts of sensitive spots he never knew he had. Then Charlie's mouth was properly upon him, licking and sucking and sending shivers down his spine. It was all Harry could do to lie there and keep from cumming.

And they hadn't even taken their clothes off yet.

As if reading Harry's thoughts, Charlie's hands began worming their way under his shirt once more, rubbing over Harry's abs, their calluses causing friction almost as pleasant as what they'd been doing earlier.

_Almost_.

Then nimble fingers found their way further up Harry's body and began teasing his nipples, and Harry gasped, arching into the touch. Now that he thought about it, he was doing quite a lot of that.

"Do you like that?" Charlie asked. Harry nodded.

"Shirt. Off."

"Huh?" Harry asked, but Charlie was already ahead of him as he tugged at the bottom of the thin fabric. Quickly, Harry squirmed out of it. He blushed as Charlie admired his bare torso.

"You're beautiful," the red-head whispered as he lowered his mouth to Harry's nipples. Harry might have answered, but before he could, Charlie took the nub into his mouth and all he could think was "Oh Merlin".

A warm, wet organ flicked over them and Harry cried out. Charlie raised his head, the expression in his eyes torn between amusement and lust. "Do that again," Harry said. "Please?"

Charlie lowered his head once more and obliged. Harry squirmed beneath him as Charlie inflicted all sorts of pleasure upon him of the kind he had never received with Ginny. He was so distracted that he didn't notice Charlie's hand slipping lower and lower until it suddenly palmed his erection through he pants.

Harry bucked up into the hand, and Charlie drew back. For a second, Harry wondered whether he'd had second thoughts, but instead the Weasley drew his shirt over his head and pulled off his jeans so that he was standing there in just his underwear.

Harry lay there, panting on the bed. He was so horny, and he wondered idly if he'd ever been that hard in his life. Judging from the tent Charlie was making in his underwear he felt the same way.

He stood up and wrapped his arms around Charlie's waist, burying his head into the crook of his neck and nibbling at the skin he found there. His hand sneaked over Charlie's exposed skin around to cup at his crotch.

"Oh," Charlie breathed, "_Harry_."

As Charlie rubbed his clothed member against Harry's hand, he saw for himself why Charlie had enjoyed pleasuring him on the bed. Having the other person writhing because of your ministrations… it was really quite erotic.

Charlie's hands moved the to buttons on Harry's pants and hastily relieved him of them. Ignoring Harry's white briefs, he slipped his hand into them and grasped his hot cock. Harry threw his head back and cried out as Charlie began pumping.

"Does that feel good?" Charlie asked huskily.

Harry moaned. "Keep talking."

Charlie's eyes widened, but Harry just wanted to hear that rough voice again. It didn't even matter what he was saying - he could have been talking about a pine tree for all Harry cared, as long as he continued to caress Harry with his sensual voice.

"Do you like it when I stroke your cock?" Charlie asked. Harry felt himself draw closer and closer at the words.

"Yes," he managed to pant. "Yes, don't stop. Keep- Ngah!"

Charlie had just reached down with his other hand and fondled Harry's balls through the fabric. At the same time he ran his thumb over Harry's weeping head. Harry couldn't hold it back anymore - with a muffled shout he came in his underwear.

Charlie continued to stroke him as Harry shuddered and jerked beneath him, the white liquid coating his hand making for even better lubrication.

"Nice?" Charlie asked. Harry, still incoherent from the intense orgasm, just moaned in appreciation. Charlie laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."

He leant down and kissed Harry one more, nibbling on the other man's bottom lip. Harry responded eagerly, and soon found that his body was rubbing up against Charlie's still-prominent bulge. He reached down and slowly pulled off Charlie's underwear.

"Harry…?"

Harry grinned impishly up at him. He'd never done this before, but it was something he wouldn't mind trying. Getting onto his knees, he knelt in front of Charlie and took his erection in his mouth.

Charlie moaned as he was engulfed in a warm, wet heat. The pleasure was too much and he started to thrust into Harry's waiting mouth before remember that this was the first time Harry had done this. Instead he managed to reduce it to a small spasm of his hips.

Even this was too much for Harry, who had struggled to take Charlie's length in as it was. His cock hit the back of his throat, causing Harry to gag, and he pulled back so that he could take it better. "Sorry," Charlie muttered.

Slowly, Harry began moving his mouth back and forwards around the member, and Charlie groaned at the wet, warm friction. Harry's tongue rubbed the underside of his cock, making it twitch in his mouth. As Harry began to get more and more confident, the pace began to build.

Soon the salty taste of Charlie's precum became apparent as it leaked into Harry's mouth. He resisted making a face, instead choosing to hum around the red-head's member. Charlie gasped and jerked his hips once more.

This time Harry could take it, and, though Charlie's cock hit the back of his throat, he managed not to choke and reached his hand up to fondle his swollen balls. Charlie felt himself coming undone.

"Harry," he moaned, "stop."

Harry didn't, and he was forced to pull away. He groaned as he lost that delectable heat. "What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I don't think I could last much longer," Charlie admitted.

Harry grinned. "That was kind of the point," he told him. "Can I continue?"

Charlie seemed torn. "How… how far do you want to go?" he asked. Although he desperately wanted to go all the way, he didn't want to rush Harry, nor did he want to pressure him into doing something he wasn't comfortable with.

Harry's eyes widened as he got what Charlie meant. He moved closer to Charlie, a blush powdering his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around Charlie's waist. His no-longer-spent cock had recovered and was erect once more, and it brushed against Charlie's, causing a moan to once again escape the red-head.

Putting on his most aroused voice, he whispered sensually in Charlie's ear, "If it's okay with you… I want you in me." He smiled when he got the reaction he wanted; he felt Charlie's cock twitch against him.

"It's more than okay," Charlie whispered throatily, "but are you sure?"

"Yes," Harry told him, no question in his voice. That was enough for Charlie, who manoeuvred them both so that, with one push, Harry fell backwards onto the bed, his cock standing erect from his body.

"Do you have lube?" he asked. "It will make things easier for you."

Harry nodded. "Top draw," he said. When Charlie turned away, he briefly allowed an expression of panic to cross over his face. This was a completely new thing for him, and, while he wanted it, he was a little afraid as well. Would he like it? Would it hurt? What if he did terribly and Charlie never wanted to do it again? What if-

In his panic, he hadn't noticed that Charlie had found the lube and had realised his unease. A strong arm eased him up into a sitting position and rubbed his back. "Hey," Charlie said, his voice no longer dominated by lust. "It's okay. We don't have to do this if you want to."

"No," Harry said. He took a deep breath. "No, I want to. I'm just… you know… nervous."

Charlie smiled. "Don't be. We can go as slow or as fast as you want."

Harry nodded. Slowly, Charlie kissed Harry again; softly and sensually, nibbling on his lip and tasting every small area of his mouth with his tongue. His hand started to caress the other man's chest. Harry began to relax.

His hand moved lower and lowed, until fingers were dancing erotically over the younger man's engorged member. "Is it okay if I move lower?"

Harry nodded, tensing on reflex as Charlie skated over his balls and circled his hole. "Relax," Charlie advised.

"I'm ready," he said, eager for this first part to be over with. However, despite his efforts to loosen up, he still felt the burning sensation as Charlie's finger slipped inside him. It wasn't exactly pleasant, but it wasn't painful either - it was more unpleasant than anything else.

Charlie reached down and began stroking Harry's cock at the same time - now that _was _pleasant. Harry moaned, his attention sufficiently distracted from Charlie's fingering. He barely even noticed as a second finger was inserted and the red-head began to finger him.

He did, however, notice when a third finger was added. He gasped and tensed on instinct - although he couldn't actually remember relaxing so much. Charlie halted his penetration, although his hand continued to stroke Harry's cock. "You okay?" He asked.

Harry nodded, and told Charlie to start moving again. He did so slowly, but Harry still felt the burning stronger than ever, and no amount of pleasure Charlie lavished on his swollen member was changing that. He bit his lip, knowing full well that Charlie was a lot bigger than three fingers. He hoped it didn't hurt too much.

Charlie didn't cease his ministrations until he was satisfied that Harry was well and truly stretched. By this time his own cock was painfully hard and even Harry looked like it might not take too much to get him off, despite the uncomfortable new experience he'd just endured.

"Are you ready?" Charlie asked. Harry nodded.

Charlie reached for the lube once more but, before he could squirt some onto his hand, Harry grabbed his wrist. Charlie looked up in confusion.

"No," Harry said. "Let me."

Charlie's mouth went dry as Harry quickly coated his hand and grasped his cock. Charlie felt his cock twitch as the hand began to move up and down, stroking and squeezing.

In some ways, Charlie thought, it was even more erotic than when Harry was sucking him. Harry's fingers were like a pianist's as they danced over the keys, creating magical wonders that Charlie could never hope to rival. They hadn't even gotten to the main part and already he was feeling a telling sensation in his stomach, and the tightening of his ball sack, signalling he was going to cum. He held back as best he could, but he started to pant as Harry began to wank him faster.

It didn't take long before it was past the point where Harry was lubricating Charlie, and the benefit of him continuing was purely pleasure. In next to no time at all, Charlie had to grab Harry's wrist to stop him. "I think that's enough," he said with a smile.

Harry nodded nervously and lay back on the bed. Charlie's stomach swooped as Harry lifted his legs and presented his entrance to him. Smoothly, Charlie fitted himself into the niche between Harry's legs, his eager cock already pressing at Harry. He felt the younger man shiver at the sensation.

He lined it up and slowly pushed forwards. His head was quickly enveloped in the erotic heat before he stopped. Harry had whimpered.

"Are you alright?" he asked, barely managing to restrain from pushing onwards. His hips were dying to thrust into that waiting body, but he couldn't, not yet; Harry was in pain.

"Yeah," Harry grunted, and Charlie didn't miss the pain in his voice. "'M fine."

Charlie shook his head. How was he expected to buy that? He reached down so that he was caressing the skin on Harry's thighs and, when he reached further, his abdomen. "No," he told Harry, "you aren't. We'll wait until you adjust."

Harry nodded, and Charlie watched him visibly relax as the time passed. Eventually Harry spoke. "Okay," he said. "Can you do it quickly?"

"It'll hurt," Charlie said.

Harry shrugged. "I don't care."

Charlie pushed onwards, but extremely slowly. He didn't think he could be anything but careful with Harry. Below him, the younger man gritted his teeth.

Before Charlie knew what was happening, Harry had reached out his legs and wrapped them around Charlie's waist. The red-head gasped as Harry pulled him forwards in one swift movement and he found his throbbing member enveloped in heat. He arched his back in pleasure, making him go even deeper. "Ahh," Charlie moaned.

Below him, Harry cried out in pain. As soon as the stars had disappeared from Charlie's vision, he fixed his attention back on his partner. "Harry?" he asked. Harry just groaned - and not the good sort of groan.

"It hurt, didn't it?" Charlie asked, hoping his voice didn't sound at all smug with the knowledge that he'd been right. He didn't think it had.

"A bit," Harry admitted stubbornly.

Charlie held himself still despite the need to move and feel friction on his aching erection. He bit his lip when, after a few minutes, Harry began to squirm experimentally. How was he supposed to resist when the other man did things like that? Idly he reached down once more to in between the other man's legs. Even if it didn't encourage Harry to continue quicker, it might ease some of his discomfort.

"Go slowly?" Harry asked, and Charlie nodded. While it would be tempting to pull out and thrust back in hard, he never would have even if Harry had asked him to. He didn't want to hurt the young man. Instead, he started with small movements.

Now that Harry was adjusted, it didn't seem to cause him as much pain as it had before. Charlie began to go faster and faster, and Harry's noises turned into ones of pleasure, which made his stomach swoop. It wasn't long before he could easily pull right out of Harry and thrust back in again without causing harm.

Soon his hand and his hips were moving in time, and Harry was pushing back against him tentatively. Charlie felt that tightening again and he hoped that Harry was well and truly enjoying himself, and that he was just as close. When Harry clenched tight around him, it was almost his undoing.

"Oh!" Harry cried, clenching and arching his back. His hips bucked into Charlie's and he bit his lip at the sheer pleasure. "That spot! Hit it again."

Charlie carefully aimed his hips and thrust. On his second try he got it; Harry cried out once more and grabbed at the bed sheets to steady himself. "Ngaaa!" he cried.

It seemed that Harry was very vocal when in the throws of _extreme_ pleasure. As Charlie rammed into his prostate more and more often, he got louder and louder. Charlie hoped this meant he was closer because his own member was throbbing and he knew it wouldn't be long before he couldn't hold on anymore.

He stroked Harry faster, who began to writhe beneath him. Excitement coursed through him as he realised that this was it - they were both almost at their climaxes.

Charlie was determined that Harry would cum before him or, at least, they'd come at the same time. Unfortunately it didn't work out like that; as Harry grew closer he began clenching and unclenching tighter and faster, squeezing Charlie's cock in ways he'd never felt before. He gritted his teeth but it was no use. He descended into that slippery slope that was his orgasm.

It was the best one of his life. He'd been with other, more experienced men before, but it was nothing compared to this. He cried out as he released his seed into Harry, stars bursting in front of his eyes at the intense pleasure of it. His hand still moved frantically on Harry's cock and, as the younger man felt Charlie's cum fill him, he came too, hips jerking uncontrollably.

Eventually their movements slowed and Charlie pulled out, only to fall into an exhausted heap next to Harry on the bed. For his part, the black-haired man didn't seem to mind, nor did he appear inclined to move either. Mustering all the strength he had, Charlie reached over for some tissues.

Harry groaned at the thought of cleaning up - and at the following thought of how much it was going to hurt in the morning. Charlie chuckled and handed him a tissue. Once they were clean, Charlie pulled a blanket over them both.

"I'm sorry for cumming so early," he said apologetically.

"Don't be," Harry murmured tiredly. "It was amazing."

"Yeah, it was," Charlie said. "But still… I don't usually do that."

"You'll have to prove that," Harry said, so quietly and with such exhaustion in his voice that it took Charlie a moment or two to realise what he was proposing. A smile spread across his face.

"I look forward to it," he said.

"Not tonight though," Harry said quickly. "'M too tired."

"Yeah," Charlie agreed. He pulled Harry closer to him and his heart beat quickened as the other buried his head into his shoulder, snuggling up to him like a small kitten. He wrapped his arms around the smaller form protectively.

Thinking was never a good thing to do right after exhausting sex, when the only thing both partners should be doing is sleeping. The mind comes up with all sorts of unwanted ideas and, as he watched Harry's eyes droop closed and felt his even breathing against his neck, he realised something very important about the younger man.

He wondered whether he should tell Harry. Did he want to put a strain on their relationship so early? What if Harry didn't respond? The other man looked so peaceful; it would be cruel to worry him.

His worry was proved unnecessary as a small snore slipped through Harry's lips. But it was too wonderful a thought to keep to himself, and he couldn't help whispering to the sleeping man, "I love you."

And, despite the great dinner they'd shared, despite the amazing sex, and despite the wonderfulness of this new realisation, the best part of Charlie's night was what happened next.

"I love you too," Harry murmured sleepily. "Now go to sleep."

* * *

><p><em>Dear Harry,<em>

_Sorry that it's been so long since we last wrote. I'm spending most of my time trying to keep Hermione off her feet - for someone who loves books so much, she's terrible at just sitting down and reading. I keep telling her that she needs to relax and rest up, and that it's not good for the baby for her to be so active, but she refuses to listen. She'd still be going to work if it let her. Do you think you can talk to her?_

_Anyway, how's Romania going? I bet you've had all types of dragon adventures and other sorts of trouble. Knowing you, you've almost died about fifty times by now. _

_Hoping you're not dead yet,_

_Ron_

* * *

><p><em>Dear Harry, <em>

_Sorry I haven't been writing. Ron's driving me insane! I keep trying to tell him that I'm pregnant, not an invalid. He won't even let me make my own cheese and crackers - honestly, I can't wait until I have the baby. Even the labour can't be anything compared to this torture._

_I bet you're dying to tell us all about the dragons and everything. I expect a long letter describing every detail in the hope it will stave of this boredom that comes of not being allowed to do _anything_! Are you learning lots about dragon species and how to take care of them? You should probably write to Hagrid. He'd be very interested. _

_Nothing else very interesting is happening back here. I expect Ron's already told you that Luna's pregnant - no one knows who the father is. Ron, George and Lee are trying to convince me that she thinks it's a crumple-horned snorkak, but I know for the fact that she's saying the father is a faun. I don't think she's any saner than she was at Hogwarts._

_I have to go before Ron tries to tell me that holding a quill is too strenuous. I do hope you're having a wonderful time._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

* * *

><p><em>Dear Ron and Hermione<em>

_Ron: stop harassing Hermione. Remember that she knows a lot more jinxes than you and, even if she is pregnant, she could still beat you in a duel hands down. Hermione: stop trying to do things. You're pregnant; take a break._

_Romania's going great! The dragon's are amazing now that I'm finally promoted from grading scales. I've seen Norberta and you'll never guess what - there are a whole bunch of baby Norbertas! I've already told Hagrid - he writes to me almost every day now. And unlike you two, he didn't stop writing for almost a month. _

_No, Ron didn't tell me. It's funny; you'd think it worth mentioning that Luna's pregnant with a baby faun. Tell her… um… congrats from me? Or advise her to visit the mental ward at St. Mungos? Either response is probably good. _

_I actually have something to tell you, but it's sort of big, so I'll wait until you can visit. I suppose that won't be until the baby's born?_

_Ron, I also hope you aren't dead._

_Love, _

_Harry._

* * *

><p><em>Harry! Hermione's had the baby! It's a girl! We've called her Emma! She's so adorable!<em>

_I'm a dad. I can't believe it. I'm a dad. _

_I'll make this short because we're coming to visit you and Charlie on Monday. You can see Emma then!_

_Can you tell Charlie for me?_

_I'm think I'm in shock._

_Love, _

_Ron._

* * *

><p>Harry read the latest letter with a mixed sense of excitement and apprehension. It was wonderful news that Hermione had had the baby, and he really did want to see her… but Monday? He'd thought he'd have more time before he told his best friends that he was gay and that he was in love with Charlie.<p>

Charlie, who was reading the letter over his shoulder, wrapped his arms around Harry's waist from behind. As though he read Harry's thoughts he murmured in the younger man's ear, "It'll be okay. They'll be fine. And we have each other."

Harry smiled up at Charlie. He was right. And Harry had a feeling that it _would _go fine, and he'd finally have his happily every after.

A few month's ago, before he'd come to Romania, it had seemed like a distant dream, but now it was his reality.

xXx THE END xXx

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm so sorry about the time it took me to write this… I've never found lemons so **_**hard **_**before. No pun intended. But I've made it up to you! Over 3000 words of pure smut! Please review and tell me what you thought. **

**Beta: chronicxxinsanity**


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